05/19/2023
I'd like to share the story of a little girl named George. She was born with bright blonde hair and captivating bright eyes. Like all newborns, she believed the world would be a good place, but she quickly learned otherwise due to her mother's addiction to he**in, methamphetamine, and various other substances. Her mother had been exploited by men since a young age, leading her to believe that it was a normal part of life for women. That, as a woman, she was worth only what the men in her life wanted her to be. Tragically, she exposed her young daughter to the same fate, believing it was inevitable.
As George grew up, She fell into the same cycle of drug addiction that her mother introduced her to. She became a pr******te, advertising her services and herself on Craigslist. George did not understand that not all women feel dehumanized and objectified.
George carried a great deal of pain and self-hatred. She felt unloved by her own mother, which made her believe that something must be deeply wrong with her. Throughout her life, she had three children by different men, all of whom she felt loved her. However, they abused her, pimped her out, and saw her solely for what she could provide them.
I first met George when I was working at a clinic. In an effort to make her feel valued and unique, I assigned her client number 1 PM0001, as I had the authority to do so. I craved for her to experience the feeling of being special in a positive way. I wanted her to feel worthy of someone's respect and care, to not have to give anything and still be respected simply because she was alive and a human.
Unfortunately, George did not emerge victorious from her struggles. Just over a week ago, she passed away due to complications from AIDS. She had stopped taking her medications, feeling that the disease she carried didn't matter anyway. Because despite her visible signs of illness, men were still willing to pay a premium for unprotected s*x. And love either is not real and is only used to get men what they want without a fight, or she is not worthy of anything better in life.
Jessica's death weighs heavily on me.
I struggle to remember that some good men are out there somewhere. I know I have one. He had the opportunity to abuse me many times, and he never did. Instead, he waited until we were older and free from others before declaring his intentions.
I wasn't able to discuss my faith with Jessica because it wasn't within the scope of my role and responsibilities. However, I feel broken that she did not know Jesus, and it hurts me to know that she will now be enduring eternal suffering as she only knew in her short life, for all eternally.
These thoughts contribute to my current state of anger and confusion towards Father God, "good people," Men, and my own failures.
